Dawn of the Warrior
by Doctor80
Summary: Set immediately after the Night of the Doctor, this story follows the War Doctor as he becomes used to this new incarnation and readies himself to fight the Time War. Ohila convinces him to return Cass' body to her family to get over his guilt at her death - when he arrives he meets some old enemies and familiar faces.
1. A Warrior Born

She was right, it had hurt. But without Ohila's elixir, the Doctor could not have lived. Now, light and energy were streaming from his hands and face as every cell in his body burnt and was reborn. The pain was unbearable, but necessary.

Eventually the burning stopped. The light faded from his body and the Doctor fell to his knees. Regeneration was always exhausting, even if he was a veteran by now. This was his seventh, but it felt different this time. Perhaps because he was already dead when it happened, the result of a crash landing.

Perhaps also because, this time, he would not just have a new body, but a new mission. No longer could he be the Doctor, whizzing around planets, dazzling young companions and himself feeling young in their presence, and saving people from monsters. Neither could he be the Doctor who stood by in the Time War.

He rose from his knees and began to get a sense of his bearings. His crash onto the planet Karn hadn't happened even twenty minutes ago, so he hadn't really had time to check out the place. He had woken in some kind of temple, with a stone altar, and a pool of reflection. Candles were neatly strewn about the place, giving the place a warm light it did not deserve. Particularly with a body on the altar.

"Is it done?" he heard Ohila ask from outside. She and her sisters had left him alone for the regeneration. It was a little surprising she waited. As head of the Sisterhood of Karn, she was accustomed to things running on her schedule, rather than anyone else's. Still, as the one who prepared the elixir, she wanted to know if it worked. Those keepers of the flame of eternal life were precious about their standards. But he wasn't ready for her yet. He needed to know more about this new self.

He held up his hands. They were young. He put one to his chin, realising he was clean-shaven. A reflection in the pool showed him his face was too. He had much too much hair, like the last time. That would have to go. It was dark brown again - he might have kept it long, had it been ginger, but not brown. Thin but pleasant eyes, that bore none of the weight they would.

But it didn't really matter what he looked like, the Doctor reflected. He would not be staying long in this body. Ohila had asked if he wanted to be fat or thin, young or old, man or woman. She was generous like that. But his only request was to be made a Warrior. After all, the universe had no more use for a Doctor.

"Doctor no more," he uttered. His voice was raspier than his young hands and full hair suggested.

Ohila took that as a sign that she could approach without invitation.

"Thank you, Doctor." He winced at the name, but she ignored the reaction. "But there is no time to spare. The universe remains on the brink. You must intervene"

His hearts sank at his new mission. It would take some getting used to: end the Time War.

The War had now raged across millennia and threatened to tear apart the universe. It began simply – the Daleks and the Time Lords, and it was easy to tell who was good and bad. The Daleks – mutants placed in an armed metal shell whose only desire was to destroy anyone and anything different. The Time Lords – well, on a good day they were a pompous and pretentious people with a penchant for silly hats. On their best days, they were full of intellect and wonder, and consumed by an endless quest for knowledge and justice.

But those kinds of days were over. The Time Lords could claim no moral high ground as they devoted their intellect to warfare, and tolerated the deaths of millions in the crossfire.

Cass knew this. The Doctor looked at her, lying peaceful on the altar. This should not have been her future. He ran a hand over her cold body.

Not half an hour ago, his old self had heard her call for help from her disintegrating ship, as it sped out of control towards Karn. Now both of them were gone. He had rarely seen such courage. After explosions had rocked her ship, she had teleported all her crewmates off and taken over the controls. She hadn't even been the pilot, but just transport crew. She must have known there was barely any chance of survival.

He had been her last chance, and had relished it. He felt a sting in his chest, as he remembered. As he led her towards his ship, bantering with her about the adventures enjoyed by companions of the Doctor, he had daydreamed about the capers they might have got up to.

Regardless of the other Time Lords, this is who the Doctor was. He found people in need, and saved them. And sometimes he found someone he wanted to travel with. They had to be bright and energetic, but above all needed a sense of justice. Cass was all of that. But to her, he was just another murderous, warmongering Time Lord. She rejected him, and they crashed on Karn together.

Ohila observed the weight increasing in the Doctor's eyes. "Let her be the War's last casualty-"

The Doctor cut her off. "I fear there will be many more," he retorted, before turning to look her in the eye. "But the Doctor will be the last."

"Then your mission awaits, Doctor."

He looked away, and stayed rooted to the spot.

"Where do I begin." It was less a question than a sigh. "I was the Doctor. I helped people. It was never my wish to harm."

He turned back to her. "I was the Doctor so long, I don't know how to be anything else."

Ohila understood that this Time Lord needed a push. She mused quietly, "she had a family, you know." The Doctor's head fell. "Back on Raxon. Her home planet. I can see it. A place of fire and mountains, with a bitter winter."

"Her parents. Freya and Shan. A carpenter and a pilot."

The Doctor's discomfort was plain. "They must have said their goodbyes when she joined the transporter."

Ohila played her trump card. "Also…a sister. Who is still on Raxon."

Acceptance, though not exactly joy, washed over the Doctor's face. He would give Cass a proper resting place, and then join the War. He snapped Cass' bandolier off her body, putting it on himself.

His new voice sounded strong for the first time. "Have you sisters prepare her and bring her to my TARDIS." Ohila bowed her head slightly, masking her dislike for receiving orders rather than requests.

"And Ohila – I'll need directions to Raxon. You may need to input them yourself, as I haven't the foggiest how to fly her."


	2. Battle on Raxon

She was still bigger on the inside, but even the TARDIS looked different. The metal scaffolding had gone, as had the endless clutter. Carpets, bookcases, chairs – all gone. It wasn't a complete to improvement – cables were strewn around the floor. He'd have to do something about that.

"Stripped back," thought the Doctor. "She's telling me something."

Ohila had set the coordinates to Raxon, before wishing him luck and pointing to the right lever to pull. Now in flight, the Doctor studied his ship's console, bathed in a cold white light that replaced the deep blue tinge from before. Certain memories were resurfacing in his memory. What this lever did and why he should avoid that button, except in emergencies.

He strenuously avoided looking at the six-foot long box in the storage area beneath his feet. The new Doctor did, however, catch himself fiddling with his new bandolier all the same. He hadn't worn anything like this before. He wondered why, since it made a perfect case for his sonic screwdriver. In avoiding Cass, he wanted to believe this was because he did not want to simply sit and stare at her, and become lost in regret. He would have plenty of time for that after this mission. No, instead he needed to concentrate on his mission. He would return Cass to her parents and sister, and set a course to finish off the Daleks. Or the Time Lords. Or both.

But where and when to end the War.

He had heard rumours of Dalek genocides in the Azoni Galaxy. And the Time Lords were said to have destroyed the planets of Bocshia and Passel, just to create asteroid belts to slow the Dalek fleet. His old selves might have found the time to stop both of these, in between whizzing about and impressing some pretty young things. But his new hearts were harder. He would end the War, not right all its past wrongs.

The TARDIS made its wheezing, groaning sound, signalling they were coming into land. Time to make his last amends before accepting the consequences. After a deep breath, he strode purposefully to the door, and stepped through.

BOOM. He had not made it three paces before the ground between him and the TARDIS exploded, propelling him away from his ship and into the side of rocky hill. Not a great start for a Warrior looking to end a war.

Fear ran through the Doctor as he knew he needed to get to safety. Shells continued to rage around him as he glanced frantically. He was in a valley. Rocky, with sand underfoot, just as Ohila had described. She hadn't mentioned the sand was black. But that wasn't important right now. Pockets of sand were jumping up as bullets sprayed into it. He searched for a cave or a hole. Something to crawl into.

"I'm not a coward warrior, am I?" he fretted. Unable to see an obvious shelter, the Doctor decided higher ground was the best immediate option. He began climbing, ignoring the sting in his hands as he grabbed rocks for handholds.

"Where did that come from?" a voice called out.

"Where did HE come from?" a second, female voice shot back.

Before he could join the conversation, the valley was peppered with gunfire again. The Doctor passed the crest of the hill, and breathed a little easier. The firing stopped. Lying on his stomach, he turned to survey the area again, as the smoke lifted. He saw the TARDIS had been blown onto its side. But there was no obvious target or even any return fire. So what were they shooting at?

"Soldier!" the first voice called.

Were they done shooting?

Feeling the sting again, the Doctor examined his hands. His right palm was scratched and was pockmarked from having gripped the rocks so tightly. His left was bleeding, but the damage didn't look permanent. What was odd was that his hands looked older than they had on Karn. Much older.

The first voice called again. "Soldier, identify yourself!"

"They mean me," he realised. Hiding, he didn't feel like a soldier. But maybe these two could help with that.

"Who's there?" he called back.

"No – answer me" yelled the voice, with a bit less patience.

What could he say? `I come in peace' was half-true, but sounded terrible. He needed to come up with something quickly, or there was no telling what they would do.

"Found `im," the second voice called from behind him. He turned around to see a rifle pointed at him. "Over here."

The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman, who appeared too short for the gun she was brandishing. Her eyes were focused straight on him. They weren't angry, but bore a cold concentration. The Doctor realised he wasn't scared – she would only shoot if she needed to, and he wasn't about to give her a reason.

"I'm John Smith," he said.

"And how did you get here?"

"Well, I climbed the hill. My hands are hurt."

"I mean here. You just appeared. You and that blue box."

The owner of the second voice turned up. "Karine," he called. Ah – so she wasn't Cass' mother. The Doctor looked over at him, realising that both his captors were in uniform. He had been too busy looking at Carine's eyes to notice. Not that the uniforms were in that good shape. Though unmistakeably a black and dark grey camouflage, Carine's jacket was at least a size too big, and her pants were covered in stitches.

"He says his name's John Smith."

"Oh really? How do you do, John Smith? I'm John, but not Smith. Delph." His uniform was in worse shape than hers. His pants barely came down to his shins, and his jacket was too small. Had it not occurred to them that they could maybe swap?

"Come on, John, up you come." The Doctor winced as they gripped hands so he could get up.

"Delph!" burnt Karine.

"Well he's obviously not a Dalek."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Is that what you were shooting at? I didn't hear it go `exterminate'."

Karine finally lowered her gun. "This operation was planned months ago. I had it in my sights."

The Doctor's stomach tightened.

"Then you got in the way."

This Warrior had a lot to learn about war.


End file.
